


here at last

by softouches



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, and whipped, choi san is a college student, he needs love and affection because he has leo venus, like really cheesy, to the point where it's too much, wooyoung is nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:53:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27618659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softouches/pseuds/softouches
Summary: The energy drink opens with a loud click, and San takes a first gulp. This one is strawberry falvoured, faintly reminding him on summer, and San lets out a smile – sad enough to pity him, but warm enough to be considered nostalgic.“I don’t know if I should comment on your choice of drink, choice of place to sit, or the fact that you look like a living corpse.”The voice talking to him – he supposes it is directed at him – is rather distinct, San would describe it as bright. The bench shakes slightly from the weight of another person plopping down near him, but San doesn’t look, eyes still glued to his numb fingers locked around energy drink.“And should I comment on your unexplained desire of talking to strangers?”or: san is an exhausted student and wooyoung tries to make him feel things again.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 6
Kudos: 89





	here at last

**Author's Note:**

> i planned my first fic in atz fandom to be bigger and more complex but when writing is your coping mechanism stuff like this happen, so happy atz fic debut to me ;)
> 
> this is fluffy, short, and cheesy, and i basically just project stuff on san but maybe it will give you a bit of reassurance and comfort  
> cw: mentions of energy drinks and wrecked sleeping schedules, please don't live off them when you need to work it's bad 
> 
> [now is playing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5j4l_NdkYMQ&ab_channel=FuneralSuits)  
> 

To say San was tired would be a huge understatement.

San was wrecked, wrenched, and exhausted. In the worst way possible.

The room is fully submerged into the darkness, only dull light from computer screen illuminating the premises. San takes of his earphones, and a muffled sound of pumped up EDM song, that has been on repeat for more than it should, fills the room. 

Now the silence seems almost painful.

In general, you could say that Choi San was a great student. Diligent, even. His projects are always handed in on time, his classes are always attended, and essays are always written perfectly. Yet, no one knows that it costs San not only a handful of his nerves, but also his health and sleeping schedules.

Because Choi San doesn’t know what time management is. Sadly.

He sighs, looking at his lockscreen hazily. It glows with a mocking ‘4:30 AM’ at him, and a ‘did you eat’ message from Seonghwa, making his guts twist even more. San has been working all night but the only edible thing that his stomach has processed were energy drinks, empty bottles thrown around the room chaotically.

Sending in quick ‘yeah dw <3’, and finishing last drink in a one big gulp – sweet and sour taste not even feeling on his tongue anymore – San stands up, and looks faintly for his wallet in darkness, way to exhausted to even turn on the lights.

San thinks his brain doesn’t even process if he’s still awake, at this point.

The world outside greets him with a yellowish light, starry night and snow falling down prettily, melting on his skin. Technically it’s morning, but everything is still dark, looking not better that his small and dull apartments.

San likes winter, but sunlight is something that he dearly misses.

Bundling in his coat even more, he makes his way to the nearest convenience store, mind still way too hazy to think about anything apart from letters and calculations.

This project has been sucking all the life forces out of him, as he tried to put every piece of it together. Not that San was stupid, or not focused enough, or lazy, it’s just… he hated his major. Maybe even more than wet weather and arrogant people. Studying psychology was his only chance to make his parents pay off his dance classes, and dancing was something he couldn’t just give up on. Not when he finally, step by step, got closer to his dream.

But keeping up with college work, especially within the major he didn’t really like, was a torture. Waking up to the classes he hated was a nightmare. And accomplishing projects with perfect grades just not to lose scholarship was slowly killing him inside, as he wastes so much time on something he truly detests and has little to no interest.

Picking up a bundle of energy drinks, he comes up to the counter, forcefully smiling to the girl standing behind it, looking at him with glimpses of compassion in her eyes.

San loves compassion. It feels nice getting it from strangers.

As he steps outside again it is – what a surprise – still cold. But San’s insides are so numb that he sits right there, on the street, snow now covering his clothes and hair, but he has a dying hope that maybe a biting cold would make him feel something again.

Something apart from anger and exhaustion.

The energy drink opens with a loud click, and San takes a first gulp. This one is strawberry falvoured, faintly reminding him of summer, and San lets out a smile – sad enough to pity him, but warm enough to be considered nostalgic.

“I don’t know if I should comment on your choice of drink, choice of place to sit, or the fact that you look like a living corpse.”

The voice talking to him – he supposes it is directed at him – is rather distinct, San would describe it as bright. The bench shakes slightly from the weight of another person plopping down near him, but San doesn’t look, eyes still glued to his numb fingers locked around the can.

“Should I comment on your unexplained desire of talking to strangers?” The words may seem like a jab, but San offers a stranger a warm smile, yet still a bit forced at the edges.

“Valid,” the person huffs, something between snort and laugh. San finally looks to the side and sees a dark-haired boy, splutters of white creating a nice contrast of colours on his head and skin. He looks young, maybe of same age, but San has always been rather bad at guessing games. “I’m Wooyoung,” the boy says, mirroring the same kind of smile. It practically screams ‘I’m tired, please help me’, but San appreciates the effort.

“And now he’s giving away his name just like that,” San says, titling his head to the side playfully.

Wooyoung laughs at that, slightly throwing his head back. And San thinks he enjoys looking at the places where his skin is bare and uncovered from clothes way too much. “What will you do? Rob me?” He asks, shoulders still shaking from laughing. “Or worse, fall in love?” Wooyoung leans in, close to invading San’s personal bubble, but still far enough from supposedly making him uncomfortable.

Not like San would mind, though.

“I don’t fall for people I barely know,” He plays along, feeling as his eyes are turning into crescents from smiling. Something inside sparks, barely so, because San feels numbness all over him, but it’s something. “And you came up to me just like that, what if you’re a cheater?”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “I was trying to be nice,” He shrugs, placing his hand on the bench. Snow starts melting under it and San thinks it must feel cold now. “You looked like you would collapse at any minute.”

“Yeah, there was a chance of that happening,” San replies, gaze still locked onto Wooyoung’s hand. It’s rather small, not bigger than his own one, but he wonders if it is as warm as it looks from his perspective.

_Ouch, dangerous._

“Cute,” Wooyoung replies, and San feels as the small spark on the inside almost bursts into firework.

Almost.

“Me collapsing right there?” He asks, avoiding Wooyoung’s gaze. His eyes are pretty – of deep brown colour that engulfs you in warmth.

“Your effort of making it seems like you’re okay,” Wooyoung says. San feels those eyes looking right at him. “No offence”

“None taken.”

The drink in San’s hands feel cold again, and he almost flinches from the way it’s so unpleasant, so he puts it down after taking a sip. It’s still snowing, and the boy can’t help but feel a vast romanticism of the moment – sleepless night, first snow falling before the sunrise, and a cute stranger by his side.

San shakes his head to get rid of snow and clumsy thoughts. “You know that you don’t really look better though?” He asks, finally breaking a five-minute silence.

Wooyoung laughs once again. “Shhh, it’s a secret,” he whispers leaning in, and San feels glimpse of hot breath on his cheek. It feels nice. “Well, deadlines are ruthless to everyone,” Wooyoung concludes, leaning back way faster than San would want him to.

“Is it only that?”

“Not sure,” Wooyoung shrugs.

It’s a weird feeling, San finally decides. His body still feels numb – both from coldness of the falling snow, tiredness and mere exhaustion, but, piece by piece, something nice and pleasant accumulates inside of him, as if getting ready to break away that vicious circle of thoughts and exhaustion.

“You know that this shit is destroying your last traces of youthful health.” Now Wooyoung is the one to disturb the silence, snapping San back to the real world.

He blink several times, brain still way too slow to process complex information. “Youthful health?”

“Yeah, the one where you do shit and still feel okay,” Wooyoung explains, gently nudging San’s shoulder. He must have moved closer while San was too engaged in his own thoughts.

“Unbelievable,” San snorts, but doesn’t flinch, letting their shoulders brush against each other. The only thing between them is Wooyoung’s hand, still looking so warm even when San knows it’s impossible in this type of weather.

“Me or my humour?”

“Both.”

“Is it a compliment or?” Wooyoung thrums his fingers against the surface, and San notices how now his hand is shaded in pink colour, looking so tender against his bronze skin.

San clears his throat, trying to calm down the fastened pulse. “An observation,” he softly says, exhaling clouds of steam.

Wooyoung is a stranger. The only thing they have in common in undeniable lack of sleep, hectic schedules, and probably something deeper that hides behind that. It shouldn’t be nothing more than a fun encounter – a story that is fun to tell his friends later. But something shifts.

Because San feels a little bit more like a human again.

Or his exhausted brain is playing tricks on him, you never know which one it is.

“Your hands look cold,” Wooyoung says, head pointing down at San’s arms. Smile on his lips is still playful, but his gaze seems kind of flustered.

San feels his heart jumping up to his throat, creating a tight lump. “And?” He asks carefully, feeling blush blooming on his cheeks.

Wooyoung bites down on his lip, looking as if thousands of thoughts are running circles in his mind now. His cheeks are pink as well, though San is not sure if it’s from the cold or something else. “Maybe, I want to do something about that,” Wooyoung clears his throat and shuts eyes close, letting out a high-pitched noise. “God, that was so cheesy, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” San laughs, looking at the boy’s flustered expression. “I like cheesy?”

Wooyoung lets out a series of strangled noises, but places his hand on top of San’s cold ones. It is warm, just like San has expected.

Either that or he is touch starved.

“Please, don’t tell me I read that wrong,” Wooyoung whispers, thumb brushing over San’s knuckles. He doesn’t feel fireworks, it rather seems like feeling warmth on your skin after long, long time. It almost feels _foreign._

His brain probably doesn’t function properly, and it’s so easy to blame it all on exhaustion, but San just don’t want this striking moment to end, so he would feel the heat for a bit longer. “No,” he mutters leaning in closer. Wooyoung’s eyes look even prettier like this, nearly sparkling with joy, and he tries to take the sight in, so it engraves in his mind for a long time.

That’s when he places his lips on Wooyoung’s fuller ones – simple and chaste, yet way too strong to make his knees go weak. It lasts a fraction of a second, even less, it seems. San can’t say it’s enough, and the same feeling is mirrored in Wooyoung’s expression – lips parted and cheeks flushed. And they both know it’s a risk, something that later could shutter it all to pieces.

But San decides it is worth it, brushing their lips against each other once again.

And that’s when the numbness is finally gone, turning into a bitter taste on San’s tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> btw this is based on a true story lol /srs though be careful with strangers i beg you, especially at nights shjdjd hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> maybe hit me up on [twt](https://twitter.com/softouchan)  
> i mostly tweet about skz but more atiny moots would be nice ;) also i have [cc](https://curiouscat.me/_softouches) you can leave a prompt or ask me something! and you can check my skz fics as well if you excuse self promo hehe
> 
> vote for atz on mama, stream inception and sleep well pls <3


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